


Namesake

by klantic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Harry Potter Next Generation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 22:38:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17733983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klantic/pseuds/klantic
Summary: In which James Sirius Potter receives a Howler from the most famous wizard in Britain - his father.





	Namesake

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at a fanfic. Be gentle in your reviews.

Before he’d left for Platform 9 and ¾ the September of his third year, James had nicked the Marauder’s Map from his father’s study.

“ _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_ ,” he muttered, pointing his wand at the decrepit parchment. He grinned as the castle and its inhabitants began to ink across the page. “Well, Mssrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs: how should I uphold my most solemn pledge tonight?”

As per usual, the map’s creators began to offer input.

_Mr. Padfoot commends Mr. Potter for his dedication to the craft, and suggests he visit the Slytherin common room._

Sirius Black. James couldn’t help but well with pride every time he used the map. It was the reason he felt no remorse from stealing it from his father. Every bone in his thirteen-year-old body told him that this map was rightfully his and that it was a downright crime to have been kept in a drawer for the past decade.

_Mr. Prongs agrees with Mr. Padfoot, and would like to add that a hair color-changing charm ought to do the trick._

James grimaced. Color-changing charms weren’t until sixth year. He remembered Victoire’s neon green eyebrows last year. Ah, well, he’d just have to improvise.

_Mr. Moony presents his sincerest apologies for the lack of information on behalf of his fellow Marauders, and wishes to inform Mr. Potter that the password to the Slytherin common room is “Bezoar.”_

He closed his eyes and pictured the word so as not to forget. When he’d opened them, the map had had its last piece of advice.

_Mr. Wormtail bids Mr. Potter a successful evening, and advises he take the shortcut under the Great Hall._

Most corridors were empty. Peeves’ name hovered near the North Tower, where Divination was held - Professor Patil’s name remained firmly in her study. McGonagall was pacing in the Head office; Filch, the old caretaker, was in the Trophy Room; and the two prefects on duty - Benjamin Booth and Victoire Weasley - were patrolling the third floor corridor and the hallway near the kitchens, respectively.

James’ eyes fixed on Victoire’s name, watching as it moved lazily toward the Hufflepuff common room. _I bet a million galleons she’s thinking about Teddy_ , he smirked, thinking fondly of the scene he’d interrupted between his cousin and Teddy Lupin on the platform.

Out of the corner of his eye, there was movement on the map. He snapped back to attention and zeroed in, barely able to contain his glee at the name that was most certainly not where it was supposed to be.

_Scorpius Malfoy._

“What are you up to, Malfoy?” James muttered, squinting at the label of the passageway. He really did need to see about some spectacles. He moved his lit wand closer to the page - his name hovered in a room just off the potions corridor. Another speck of movement caught James’ eye - _Albus Potter._ It was heading for Malfoy’s name.

“My, my, little brother, maybe you will do me proud.” James double checked the map for any authority figures nearby and with a “ _Mischief managed_ ” ( _or about to be_ , he thought) and a “ _Knox,_ ” he was off.

James preferred to operate alone. He hadn’t told his best mates about the Marauders yet - it was only October and the map was still a novelty, a secret that had to be kept until the right time.

He knew he could trust Fred Weasley, his best mate from well before Hogwarts. As soon as James discovered Fred’s dad (and James’ uncle) owned a prank shop, their family didn’t stand a chance.

And Alice Longbottom - one of the few Hogwarts students who 1. wasn’t related to him and 2. hadn’t treated him like the Queen of bloody Britain’s arse as soon as he waltzed into Hogwarts - would drop her copy of _Witch Weekly_ and help him lay out pranks in a heartbeat.

Though they’d met before Hogwarts, James and Fred befriended Alice when they were ceremoniously tossed into the same boat on their way across the Great Lake their first year. Alice cursed way more than an eleven-year-old should curse (how she came to have this mouth was beyond anyone, particularly the always sweet Neville and Hannah Longbottom) when the Giant Squid decided to reach up and soaked her new robes with lake water and slime. James and Fred nearly died of laughter and then actually nearly died when Alice attempted to push them out of the boat.

He knew he should tell them - it’d be nice to have company on his nightly escapades - but he just….couldn’t. All his life, he’d been told to share with what felt like a hundred cousins, godsons, and siblings. This map...he was named after two of the creators of this map. It was his. And he wasn’t ready to give that up quite yet.

* * *

 

As he rounded the corner of the potions hallway, he heard the muffled voices of his younger brother and his fellow Slytherin. He drew closer until he could make out what they were arguing about.

“We _can’t_!” Al hissed. “We’ll get caught, or _worse_ -”

Malfoy snorted. “Or what? Expelled?”

There was a pause, then, “Well...yeah. Don’t you care?”

“Look,” Malfoy sighed. “I do care, all right? I _do_. But we’re not gonna get expelled for this, Al. Especially not you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Look at you! You’re like a freaking mirror image of him!”

Al spluttered, “Y-you - look at you!”

“Oh, yeah, they’d expel me in a heartbeat. People don’t like my family all that much. But now that I’ve got you and your face…”

There was another pause. James shifted closer to the door, which stood ajar. _Amateurs_. But this thought was only half-hearted because he could now make out their forms. Between the two boys was (James had to squint - _bloody glasses_ )...a cauldron?

“Fine.” Al sunk his shoulders, resigned. “How are we even going to slip this to him?”

If James had been losing interest before, he was surely listening now. His little brother - Al, the quiet, reserved, jumps at the whistle of a kettle, Al - was trying to pull something over on a poor, unsuspecting soul? James almost laughed out loud. He loved a good plot twist.

“You just be yourself and I’ll handle the rest.”

“But what if he catches on? You don’t want to get on James’ bad side. Last time I tried that, he charmed all of my shoes to hover just out of reach. I wore only socks for a month.”

“We just won’t get caught, then.”

 _Oh nope. Nuh-uh_. Pull a prank on him? James Sirius Potter? James Sirius Potter did not get pranked.

“Gentlemen,” he announced, throwing open the door.

Scorpius spun around in shock. Al jumped back, knocking his elbow into the stone wall of the dungeon with a resounding crack. James winced slightly, then resumed his neutral face - a trick he’d picked up from his auror father.

Al was the first to speak. “James? What are you doing here? How’d you find us?” Scorpius crossed his arms and puffed out his chest in what he probably thought was menacing. James smirked.

“I was taking a nighttime stroll to the kitchens,” he said innocently. “You know how I like a good spot of tea at the break of dawn, Al.”

“The kitchens are across the castle,” said Scorpius. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. Al had heard the same bedtime stories as James growing up. Also, James hated tea.

“You have it, don’t you?”

“Have what?”

“ _It_ ,” said Al, glancing nervously at Scorpius, who had broken his demeanor slightly in curiosity.

“I haven’t a clue what you’re on about, Albus.”

“Look, I don’t know what you heard, but-”

“You’re not getting near my morning pumpkin juice, if that’s what you mean,” said James. He added thoughtfully, “Why’re you two trying to slip me a potion, anyway?”

The two first years glanced at each other, Al shaking his head in panic. Scorpius scowled at him and then turned to James, stating boldly, “All you’ve done to Al since he got here is put him down.”

Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t this. James’ mouth popped open in surprise. “Hold on, _that’s_ what this is-” but Scorpius was on a roll.

“He’s a Slytherin! So what? Why is our House a curse word for everyone else? What did we do to you - wait, alright,” he said, backtracking, “I know what we did to you. But that wasn’t even us! That was a group of evil people before us! You make Al feel like nothing. _Nothing_. All because he’s a bit different than the rest of you lot. And I will not stand for it.” Scorpius had moved so that he now stood directly in front of James, arms crossed, glaring up at a third year who was at least a good foot taller than him.

“You sure you’re not a Gryffindor?” James glanced over at Al, who was staring, dumbfounded, at Scorpius. It was quiet in the small room, with only the rattling of the cage and the spitting flame of a nearby torch to fill the air.

“Is this how you feel?” Albus snapped his green eyes to James, frowning.

“I, er, yeah,” he said lamely.

James felt a pang in his chest and he rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “Blimey, I-”

“ _Leave_ ,” spat Scorpius to James. “For once in your life, no one wants you here.”

“How rude,” said James, recovering slightly, “and to think I was just up for a spot of tea.” He whipped out his wand as Scorpius dropped his own. The blonde-haired Slytherin tackled James’ scrawny figure with as much force as he could muster, and he stumbled back, tripping painfully over the boiling cauldron.

Al shouted in warning as James and Scorpius slammed to the stone floor. James’ vision went black for a second and he felt woozy as the fumes from the potion swirled around the dungeon. He groaned in pain, barely noticing Malfoy scrambling to his feet and tugging Al from the room.

“C’mon, I dunno what it’s going to do-”

“But my brother-”

“He’s smart, he’ll get out. Let’s _go_ , before we get caught-”

The potion bubbled furiously, reaching for James. Coming back to his senses, he yelped and yanked his feet closer to his body right before the brownish liquid could touch him. He looked wildly around the small room - there was no sign of his brother and Malfoy.

He cursed and stumbled to his feet, carefully side-stepping the potion as he raced into the corridor.

“MALFOY!” he roared at the retreating backs of the two aforementioned boys, who spun around at his reverberating voice.

As he sucked in a breath to unleash a spell, the corridor exploded.

James felt his body astral project to another dimension; or so he’d dramatically relate to Fred and Alice later. “I saw the light,” he’d say. “It called out to me like Alice in her sleep.” He’d earn a well-deserved slap for that cheek.

In reality, the blast was so powerful, it sent James’ body bowling into Scorpius and Albus like a ball into two pins. He blacked out again from the impact. “Astral project” sounded better than “fainted twice in the span of a few minutes.”

All three parties grunted as they peeled themselves off the floor.

“What,” groaned James, “in Merlin’s saggy left tit was _that_?”

Al was trembling against the wall while Scorpius stared, wide-eyed, at the destroyed corridor. “It wasn’t supposed to do that.”

“Like hell it wasn’t - you were going to give me that...and then you ABANDONED me in there, you little-”

“No! I swear, it was just a Babbling-”

“A _Babbling Beverage_? That doesn’t blow up a bloody corridor-”

“STOP!” James and Scorpius snapped attention to Al, who’d moved away from the wall and was dusting off his robes.

“It was just a prank, James, honest. I was annoyed at you for teasing me and he,” he said, indicating Malfoy, “offered to help. And you,” he said, turning to the pale boy, “I don’t need you to fight my battles.”

Sheepish, Malfoy mumbled an apology.

“Merlin, you’re like a miniature mum,” Albus glared at James and he felt that pang return to his chest. “Look, I’m sorry, Al. I shouldn’t’ve said all those things about Slytherin. ‘Figure it’s an alright House if you’re in it. ”

Al shifted, uncomfortable at his older brother’s attempt at decency. They’d never really had a heart-to-heart before.

“James? Al? What on earth…?”

James sighed in relief as Victoire Weasley finally appeared at the opposite end of the corridor, breaking the awkward moment. Then, the weight of the situation hit him as Al groaned.

“Mum’s gonna murder us.”

* * *

 

He’d really done it this time. Three years of pulling pranks, three years of trying to follow in the footsteps of his namesakes, the year he finally, _finally_ , got the map - and his bloody first year of a brother and his mate were his downfall.

He limped into the Great Hall, welcoming the general stares and gawks from the students. He ran a hand through his already messy hair and found a seat next to Fred, swinging his legs onto the bench. He reached for a piece of toast and jam and took a bite, suddenly ravenous.

“What happened to you?” said a girl with brunette bangs and intense eyes. Alice, ever the rebel, had abandoned the Hufflepuff table for the seat directly across from James.

Both she and Fred were looking at him, waiting.

“Whayamen?” he said, mouth full of toast. He tried to look as innocent as possible, widening his brown eyes - his father claimed he’d let James get away with murder with eyes like those. Alice narrowed her own.

“You know exactly what I mean, Potter. Why are we-” she gestured between her and Fred, “-hearing secondhand that you blew up a dungeon last night?” James swallowed another bite of toast before answering.

“Well, technically, I didn’t-” he yelped loudly, causing everyone in the vicinity to jump.

A bright red letter had fallen from the enchanted ceiling, which was now populated with dozens of owls. His words dropped instantly into his stomach. 

There was a pause as he stared blankly at the letter, before Fred spoke slowly.

“Is that-?”

“Yeah,” he gulped and picked up the envelope. If there was one thing that James was afraid of, it was his mother. Better to get it over with now.

With shaking hands, he peeled back the lip and braced himself for the inevitability of Ginny Potter’s wrath.

“JAMES SIRIUS POTTER,” a voice boomed across the Great Hall, swallowing every conversation in his three-part, infamous name. The voice spoke evenly, dangerously, the sonorous charm making it sound even more intimidating. It was deeper, far deeper than Ginny Weasley-Potter’s. “DON’T THINK I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU TOOK. TRY ANYTHING THAT RESULTS IN DAMAGE TO A PERSON OR BUILDING AGAIN AND YOU’RE DONE.

Oh, and Al,” said boy inched down in his seat at the Slytherin table at the sudden attention pointed his way, “congratulations on getting into Slytherin. Remember our parting words.”

With that, the Howler burst into flames, its ashes floating to James’ empty plate. He stared numbly at the charcoaled remains as the Great Hall held its breath.

That was it? A, “you’re a disappointment” for him and a “congratulations” for Al? He couldn’t believe it.

Fred let out a low whistle.

“Bloody hell, mate. You just got a Howler from Harry Potter.” At that, indecipherable chatter resumed in the Great Hall, albeit with more laughter and undisguised hand pointing aimed his way.

“He’s never yelled at me before,” James’ eyes still had not left his breakfast plate. “It’s always been mum.”

“What’d you _do_?”

“He yelled at me. In a Howler.”

Alice didn’t look up from the magazine that an owl had just laid in front of her. “He didn’t defeat Voldemort by _whispering_ at him, Potter.”

James finally looked up as she flipped a page. _Witch Weekly_. Of course. “Wha - why aren’t you consoling me?” he demanded. Fred snorted into his pumpkin juice, spraying flecks of liquid. James knew this was a silly thing to say: despite her House affinity, Alice did not _console_. He’d lost his head though, he told himself, he was in distress.

Alice flicked a droplet off of a page titled, “Werewolves, Vampires and Mermaids - Oh my! Hermione Granger’s Continual Campaign for Creature Equality.”

“Oh, I forget myself,” she said, now meeting James’ gaze. She reached over to pat his shoulder roughly. “There there, Potter. Don’t go sobbing into your toast now.”

James rubbed his now sore shoulder. “Sobbing into my - what’s your problem?”

This seemed to be the exact wrong thing to say. Alice clutched her magazine, a dangerous glint in her eyes.

“My _problem_ ,” she began, “is that you’re a right tit. You got yourself into a thick mess that even Harry bloody Potter won’t condone and somehow managed to reignite the gossip machine that is the student body at this blasted school. Do you know how utterly boring it is to hear Helena Hodge blabber on about what Teddy Lupin’s up to every time I enter a loo?”

Helena Hodge, who was definitely eavesdropping from the Hufflepuff table, gasped in outrage.

But Alice was picking up speed. “You’re on your way to achieving legend status. Of course you are. You’re _his_ son. Your mum flew pro. People loved to talk about them and they love to talk about you. My problem-” she stopped, breathing heavily, steam nearly pouring from her ears. “You didn’t even think to invite your two best mates.”

James’ mouth hung open in shock for the second time that morning. “Alice I-”

She ignored him, snapping her magazine shut and standing, glaring now at Fred, who was suddenly looking at his fork as though it contained the secrets of the universe.

“Do you have anything to say?” When he didn’t answer, she rolled her eyes, let out a grandiose huff, and stomped out of the Great Hall.

“Is everyone mad at me today?” He stared at her empty seat.

“I dunno, mate. She has a point,” James spun around to face a sheepish Fred. “You know you can trust us, right? I mean, you and I, we’ve been James and Fred since we were seven. And Alice...”

James hesitated before answering. “Yeah. Of course.” He couldn’t meet Fred’s eyes.

“Right, well,” he sighed and stood up. “When you want to tell me how you managed to blow up an entire corridor, I’ll be in our dormitory.”

James felt as if his best friend had punched him in the stomach. His abdomen gurgled uncomfortably. He’d felt this sensation only a few other times in his life. The first being his teasing of Al’s inevitable demise in Slytherin before the year began, to the previous night’s events, and now, his friends. Guilt was always an unwelcome acquaintance.

The Marauder’s Map burned in his pocket. He looked back at the ashes on his plate and then rolled his eyes.

“Oh, bloody hell!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. “Fine!”

He grumbled incoherently to himself as he grabbed his bag and threw it over his shoulder. People near him stared unashamedly. He’d stopped caring if they thought him a loon ages ago.

He was Harry Potter’s son, after all.

* * *

 

“It’s a map.” James slapped it on top of Fred’s copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_. The dark, curly-haired Gryffindor frowned.

“What are you on about?”

“It’s a map,” James repeated. “Of Hogwarts. It shows you every passage, every room, every password, and everyone currently on castle grounds. Where they are, where they’re going, who they’re with - everything. Called the Marauder’s Map.”

“The Marauders,” said Fred slowly. “As in-?”

“The blokes I’m named after? The very same.” He whistled appreciatively.

 _“Brilliant_. Where’d you get it?”

“Nicked it from dad.”

“Stealing from an Auror? You really are a class A lunatic. How d’you work it?” James pulled out his wand and tapped it to the parchment.

“ _I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_.”

“ _Wicked_ ,” Fred grinned widely as the map spread out before him. James recalled the moment he’d first seen the map - it was a holy moment for any troublemaker. “But there we are! Right there, in our tower! And there - McGonagall! Even Moaning Myrtle - she’s in her bathroom.” He chuckled in awe. “But wait. This is how you did it, isn’t it? How you knew where Al and Malfoy were?”

The hand found the hair, tossling it. “Well, yeah.”

“Hold on. You mean to tell me you had a magical map that tells you where everyone is at all hours of the night and you still got caught?”

“I was busy worrying about, y’know, whether my first year of a brother and his mate would survive,” James said, defensive. “So yeah, I didn’t check the bloody map.”

Fred held up his hands in mock surrender and grinned cheekily. “Sounds to me like you could’ve used a partner.”

“That’s why I’m showing you this, mate. Now, do you want to sit here and chat about our hurt feelings or do you want to help me get back at Al and Malfoy?”

Fred went from mocking to eager at “get back at.” “Where should we start, partner?”

“First things first. We need Alice.”

* * *

 

“Are you joking?”

“Serious is my middle name.”

Fred stared at James. “Have you been waiting your whole life to use that?”

Alice, however, didn’t even scoff at his pun. “If you think humor is appropriate right now, you’re delusional, Potter.”

“Can you just-” James stopped and closed his eyes before continuing calmly, this time. “My name is James. Let’s start there. We can’t work through this if you keep calling me by my surname. Truce?” He stuck out his hand. Alice eyed it warily.

“Are you going to tell me what happened last night?”

“Yes.”

“Do you swear you’ll never leave me out of anything ever again?”

“Oi! What am I, a pair of trousers?” protested Fred.

James held a hand over his heart. “Promise.”

“And you promise to be my slave for the rest of our lives starting now?”

“Ye- wait what?”

“Fine. James.” She squeezed his hand with hers - a little too hard, in his opinion. “What d’you have in mind?”


End file.
